{Complete} Love is infectious ~ Tweek x Craig / Craig of the Dead fan fiction

27

"Holy crap," kenny grabs his gun and starts backing up, "that is fucking huge!"

"Run!" I yell, "get to the bus as fast as you can. Don't even try to attack it, it's stronger than you'd thinks."

I start running as quickly as I can towards the minibus, not even looking back to see if the rest of my group are following. I hear someone running so I know that someone will be okay.

"Kyle, we need to go!" I hear kenny yelling, followed by Kyle's screams of protest, "stop being a little bitch, you're going to die!"

I hop over a fence and I'm out of the main field. The minibus is only a small distance away, I could walk there and still be fine.
I stop running and turn around to check on the others.

Stan has caught up to me and is catching his breath, doubled over and panting uncontrollably.

To my surprise, the Cartman isn't going after Kyle and Kenny, but is instead looking curiously at the barn. There's fresh meat right in front of it and it's just going to ignore it?

It slowly approaches the barn, its footsteps shaking the ground every time it moves. The Cartman trips over the electric fence and falls into the barn, crushing the wood. It falls through the barn's roof and onto the ground.

From where I'm standing I can't see inside the barn, but judging from Kenny's reaction I'm guessing it's bad.

The Cartman swipes at something hidden behind a wall whilst Kenny finally drags Kyle to his feet. They start running towards me as fast as they can possibly go.

"Get in the minibus," Stan shouts to them, "we need to leave as soon as possible!"

We all rush into the bus and Stan starts driving before we're properly seated, almost making me fall onto my face when he slams his foot onto the gas.

I flop into the first seat I get to, beside Kenny. He's looking over at Kyle who's sat at the seat opposite, legs pulled up to his chest with his forehead resting on his knees.
Poor guy, he must be devastated.

"Should we say something?" I ask, "I want to make sure he's okay but I don't want to upset him further."

"Kyle doesn't like being bothered when he's upset. He'll get over it in his own time," Kenny replies, sounding upset, "I can't believe Wendyl is actually gone."

"I know. It doesn't feel real," I realise that it probably isn't considerate to talk about it right next to Kyle, so I head to the back of the bus and Kenny seems to get the idea. We sit at the back and continue the conversation, "it's not the first time I've had to kill someone I'm close with."

"It isn't?" Kenny's eyes widen, "Damn."

"I had to kill my parents the first day of the apocalypse," I explain, "they killed my friend Token and my cousin Red. I had to do something otherwise they'd kill the rest of us. It was awful."

"That's pretty cliche." Kenny comments.

"Huh?"

"Token. He's black, right? I met him once on a school trip. It's cliche that he died first."

"Fuck," I kick the seat in front of me, "I've tried to hard to not be cliche and the biggest cliche in the history of cliches was right in front of me the whole time. I didn't even realise."

Stan hits some bumpy road and at his fast pace we almost fall out of our seats. Rain pelts the windows noisily and thunder rumbles in the distance. It's been so long since we've had thunder that I actually thought it was the Cartman chasing us or something.

We turn a corner right as lightening strikes a nearby tree. I almost jump out of my skin in shock, having never been so close to a lightning strike before.

"Fuck, that was close," Kenny frowns, "is being in a vehicle bad during a storm? Since it's metal?"

"Possibly." I shrug.

"I can pull over somewhere if it'll make you feel safer," stan calls from the front of the bus, "there's a little motel at the end of this street. We could stay there until the storm passes."

"It's our only option." Kenny shrugs.

So Stan pulls up beside the motel, making sure not to drive through any fences or mailboxes like Clyde would've.

Kyle looks up from his knees when he realises we've stopped, and has a confused expression on his face when he sees the motel.

"We're just staying the night since there's a really bad storm," Stan tells him, "would you rather be alone or share a room with me?"

Kyle quickly wipes his wet eyes with the palms of his hand and sniffles loudly.

"I'll share with you." He says, his voice hoarse.

Stan opens the minibus' door and jumps down onto the sidewalk, his gun out just in case.
He's instantly soaked with rain, so he pulls his hat down a little to try and keep his head as dry as it can be.

"I'm going with him," I tell Kenny as I grab my bat from the seat in front of us, "watch Kyle for us."

I quickly catch up to Stan, who is trying to open the closest door. It's obviously locked, but he keeps pulling at the door knob as if it's magically going to unlock.

"Dude I don't thin-"

"I don't give a fuck, okay?" He suddenly snaps, spinning around to glare at me, "you really think I give a shit whether a fucking door is going to open or not on the day my fucking boyfriend was murdered twice in front of me?"

"Look, I wasn't trying to-"

"Just fuck off, Craig. None of this would've happened if you hadn't joined us."

Wow. So that's what he thinks of me.

"Fuck you too." I flip him off, and it hurts my finger but right now I couldn't care less.

I walk around the side of the building and start heading up the stairs to see if any of the rooms up there will open up.
The stairs are slippery and covered in blood which I'm surprised hasn't washed away in this heavy rain.

Thunder rumbles in the distance a second after a lightening flash. The storm is really close.

I try the first door I come to, but the handle is so wet and slippery I can barely get a grip on it with my shaking hands. I try it, but it's obviously locked.
I try the next one, the one after that, and all thirteen after that. They're all locked and the rain is only just getting started by the looks of it.

"Found anything yet?" Kenny shouts up, having to actually shout because of how loud the rain is.

"No. They're all locked," I shout back, "you wouldn't happen to have a bobby pin, would you? Trish taught me how to pick locks once but I never got to try it out."

"Sorry, man." Kenny shakes his head.

Sighing, I turn back to the doors and try and figure out how to get in. I could always try breaking in with my knife, it's my only option at this point. I'm sure I read a WikiHow article about it once at three am.

I take my crusty knife out of my pocket and slide it into the lock. I push it as far in as it can go, then I start wiggling it around, trying to remember what you're actually supposed to do whilst picking a lock.
Eventually I hear a click - success!

I slide the knife out of the keyhole and then slide it between the door and the door frame, then start wiggling it again to try to pry open the latch.

After a lot of unskilled wiggling, my knife snaps.

"Shit!" I throw the handle onto the floor in annoyance.

I try the door handle and miraculously, it opens. I guess the knife sacrificed itself for us.

"Guys!" I yell, "I've got one open!"